


Painted Like A Rainbow

by xxxbookaholic



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Childhood Friends, Colors, Gen, M/M, Pre-Canon, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:15:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25960429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxxbookaholic/pseuds/xxxbookaholic
Summary: Everybody is just a few steps ahead of him, and no matter how quickly he runs, he just can’t seem to catch up.And then, all Yamaguchi's left with is green.
Relationships: Tsukishima Kei & Yamaguchi Tadashi, Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Kudos: 38





	Painted Like A Rainbow

**Author's Note:**

> The Inspiration For The Fic/A Song To Listen To While You Read: 
> 
> Hong Kong by mxmtoon

_"Hong Kong is moving around you,_

_you can't help but stand there in awe._

_Hong Kong is moving without you,_

_but you can't help and drop your jaw."_

_\- mxmtoon_

Yamaguchi’s world is painted green. In the grass he picks at while he procrastinates going to school, to the notebooks that he doodles rather than takes notes, all the way to his closet full of lime colored sweaters. Everything is the same; never changing. The world continues spinning, and yet it feels like he’s stuck in one place, never moving forward or backwards.

Everywhere he looks is green; life is growing out of everyone, potential and independence locked into their futures. Somehow, though, Yamaguchi feels like he’s the exception.

No matter what he does, his results are always mediocre. The drawings scattered around his desk are never finished, just sketches that aren’t even worthy of line art. His grades are all C’s and B’s, not failing, but not exceeding either. Despite how many times his mom has attempted to teach him the art of cooking, everything he makes ends up slightly burnt. Not inedible, but not pleasant, either. He’s tried to play sports with the other kids, but they’re all bigger and better than him.

Everybody is just a few steps ahead of him, and no matter how quickly he runs, he just can’t seem to catch up.

All he’s left with is green.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

His bullies are a constant in his life, just like everything else; continuous, never-changing, not anything special. It was just apart of a cycle. Instead of focusing on how tall and terrifying they were, he focused on the flowers to the left of the shortest bully, a little boy in his class that he’d come to recognize as _Ryuji_. The stem and leaves were green. It was sorrowful, in a way; just another constant, in the cycle of his life.

A snicker. That wasn’t new. And then, “that’s so lame.” The phrase itself wasn’t spontaneous or original; what was different, though, was the voice.

When Yamaguchi lifted his head from the pathetic green that clouded his vision, day in and day out, a new color entered his life. A royal purple, brimming with confidence and superiority.

The bullies ran after the new addition to his cycle of life, and Yamaguchi wiped his face with the back of his arm. His world suddenly felt a whole lot brighter.

The green that suffocated him day in and day out suddenly didn’t seem quite as hard of a burden to carry.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

When Yamaguchi’s at home, sitting on his desk chair and mixing his purple and green markers together, it suddenly comes to him that the boy— _Tsukishima Kei, his bullies had called him—_ could have very well been calling him lame, too. Tsukishima wasn’t his savior, nor a hero. He was just a person that wasn’t afraid to speak his mind. A person that wore the color purple like a second skin.

_Savior or not,_ Yamaguchi thought to himself as he leaned back to eye his newest drawing, _purple is new._

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

Yamaguchi’s second encounter with Tsukishima came sooner than he’d expected. Desperate to keep the new additions to his life coming, he’d decided that joining a sport was a good way to start. One look at the football and soccer team, though, reminded him of how inferior he was to his classmates. The volleyball team had looked about on his level, though, so he’d decided to give it a try.

As he peeked at the gym from around the corner, a person, presumably a player, walked past.

“Hello.”

Yamaguchi jumped in surprise. Most of the time, people didn’t address him. He recognized the boy immediately. _Royal purple,_ his mind supplied helpfully. “Thank you for yesterday!” He said, a little louder than he’d originally planned.

Tsukishima turned around, gave him a look over, and then said, “do I know you?”

Yamaguchi was shocked silent for a moment. _What, was insulting bullies just an everyday occurrence for him_? He thought incredulously. After a second, he started attempting to explain, moving his hands around in an awkward attempt to articulate his feelings. “The other day, at the park, you- “

“Ah,” Tsukishima hummed, nodding as his eyes lit up in recognition. The light went away just as quickly, though, as he put his hands on his hips. “So, what are you doing here?”

Yamaguchi stumbled over his words for a moment and then tapped his fingers together nervously, avoiding eye contact as he spoke. “Well,” he began, “I wanted to play a sport, too. There are a lot of scary guys in baseball and soccer, but this seemed safe, so…”

When he looked up, Tsukishima was looking at him an expression that almost seemed like pity. And for just a second, he felt the purple envelope him, from his body to his soul.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

Tsukishima seemed indifferent to him, at first. Yamaguchi followed him around constantly, chattering and trying his best to keep up their one-sided conversations. Sometimes, he wondered why he tried. _If Tsukki is ignoring me, then that means he doesn’t want me around, right?_

Then, Tsukishima laughed at one of his jokes, and Yamaguchi remembered why he continued to stick around. Ever since they’d become semi-friends, new colors had been added to his life.

Gray came with the feeling of security. Growing up, all the other kids in Yamaguchi’s class had said that no matter the shade, gray was boring and dull. He’d believe them if he didn’t know first-hand how safe the color made him feel. He had somebody to talk to, and when a bully pushed him too far, Tsukishima was always the first to react. It was a nice change from the quiet, pitying looks his peers used to give him.

Beige came with the quiet. Tsukishima would walk beside him, silent but still listening. He was a calming presence; somebody that brought both light and shadows everywhere he went.

Navy blue came with the A’s and A+’s that had begun to appear on his tests ever since Tsukishima began tutoring him. His parents were happier about that, too.

Not everything was sunshine and rainbows, though. When Yamaguchi met Akiteru, he was introduced to a new color. Black. Days ago, he had thought of the night sky when he heard the word black. He’d think of stars, constellations, and Tsukishima’s astrology books. Now, though, he could only think of the way Tsukishima’s eyes darkened when he met his brother’s gaze, and the way his expression could only be described as detached.

When Tsukishima suggested heading over to the park instead of his home, Yamaguchi agreed without question.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

Tsukishima stopped going to volleyball for a while. It was much harder for Yamaguchi to keep up without his friend’s blunt but helpful criticism. Once again, it felt like the world was spinning without him, the balls bouncing against his teammate’s palms, their sneakers squeaking across the gym floor, the colors of the volleyballs mixing to create an ugly brown color.

The only difference from then and before was that Yamaguchi was continuously trying to make a difference. He practiced his receives until his forearms ached, and then he practiced some more.

When Tsukishima came back, he wanted to be able to say, “look! I’m not the same crybaby that you met all those months ago!”

Even if brown wasn’t the brightest color around, it was still a color, and murky shadows couldn’t form without a little bit of light.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

Eventually, Tsukishima does come back. Where everyone expected him to be rusty, though, he was better than ever, blocking each ball with all the right calculations, never letting the opponents know what he’s about to do until he’s already done it.

Despite the sudden change in his abilities, though, Yamaguchi couldn’t help but feel dread in his stomach. Because mixed in with all the other colors that surround Tsukishima, the royal purples, the grays, the blues, there is one color that is dominating over all the others. Black weaves its way through every movement, every twitch of his finger. It’s cold and undiscriminating and ignorant.

Everything that Tsukishima wasn’t.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

Other than the shadows of black that followed Tsukishima everywhere he went, their friendship stayed the same. They went searching for bird nests in the spring, watched one-star movies just to make fun of them, and made wishes on the first star of every evening.

Pretty soon, Yamaguchi simply accepted the detachment as apart of him.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

“I use colors to understand the world,” Yamaguchi said one night, when they were sitting side by side on the top of their neighborhood playground’s money bars. The meteor shower continued on, but Tsukishima tore his gaze away from the flashing lights.

“What do you mean?”

Yamaguchi took a deep breath and then explained the way he saw things; the colors that followed each and every person around, the green that used to suffocate him all throughout the days and nights, the new colors that were added to his life every day.

Tsukishima was quiet for a second. Yamaguchi braced himself for an insult or a snarky remark, but neither came. Instead, his friend asked, in the quietest voice he’d ever used, “what color am I?”

Yamaguchi turned to look at the meteor shower again, swinging his legs nervously. “You’re a mix of a lot of colors, Tsukki,” he began. After a second, he said, “ever since the beginning, though, you’ve worn purple like a second skin.”

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

Ever since that meteor shower, Yamaguchi told Tsukishima every time he saw a new color. He’d explain the emotions each and every color brought him, and Tsukishima would listen.

It was nice, being able to talk to somebody about it.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

“It’s nine in the morning,” Tsukishima grumbled from the other line. “What do you want?”

Yamaguchi smiled widely. He hadn’t even expected his friend to pick up. He pulled the phone away from his ear and clicked the facetime button. After a few seconds of begrudging silence, the call was accepted and Yamaguchi saw Tsukishima’s tired, disgruntled face envelope his screen.

“Look!” He said, turning his camera around and facing it to the strawberry plant that was sitting by his window. After months of research and begging, his parents had let him get his first plant.

“So?” Tsukishima mumbled.

“ _So_ ,” Yamaguchi began, “I need a name for her!”

“How do you even know it’s a her?”

“Fine. I need a name for _them_ ,” Yamaguchi corrected himself easily. “Do you have any ideas?”

“How about _this-is-way-too-early-to-start-a-conversation-over-a-stupid-plant_?”

Yamaguchi hummed, as if he was considering it. “I feel like that’s too long, Tsukki,” he teased. “How about something shorter?”

“How about _Atode_ , seeing as that’s when I feel like you should have waited to ask me this question.” Despite his stubbornness, though, eventually, he said, “you should name it Yuki. Strawberries look best in the winter time, anyways.”

“Strawberries are dead in the winter time.”

“Exactly.” He huffed a laugh, at that.

Yamaguchi turned the camera back around to him, just so he could raise one eyebrow inquisitively. After a moment, though, he nodded. “Yuki is a nice name for a strawberry plant. We’ll go with that.”

“Great. Can I go back to sleep now?”

Yamaguchi laughed again, but nodded, “fine, fine. Goodnight, Tsukki!”

Tsukishima didn’t reward that with an answer. He hung up with a long and loud beep, leaving Yamaguchi left alone with just him and the reds and greens of Yuki.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

Yamaguchi and Tsukishima went to elementary school with each other, went to middle school with each other, and eventually they went to high school together.

Karasuno was only a walking distance away from their neighborhood, and they’d heard rumors that Ukai, a powerful and calculating volleyball coach, would be going back to lead his team to nationals once more.

The Karasuno Volleyball Club introduced him to more colors than he’d ever seen. Hinata was all over the place, constantly full of energy and practically vibrating at any given second. Orange seeped out of his pores and followed him wherever he went. _It’s fitting,_ Tsukishima had snickered when Yamaguchi told him about it.

Kageyama was calm and sophisticated, most of the time. Every time Yamaguchi looked at him, all he could see was turquoise, navy blue, and lavender.

Nishinoya and Tanaka were both a mix of red, orange, and yellow. Just like Hinata, they were all over the place, constantly full of energy and irreplaceable pride.

Daichi was surrounded by an aura of light brown. He was down-to-earth, reliable, and loyal, everything that a good captain had to be. Yamaguchi wished he could be like that, sometimes; a pillar for the team to rely on, even when things got rough.

Asahi practically had a halo of white and ivory. He was kind and patient, even if sometimes his reliability got overshadowed by his anxieties.

Sugawara’s colors were so all over the place, it was hard for Yamaguchi to look. White wrapped around him at all times, selfless and pure, but yellow was quick to lace a nice bow around his heart, a sign of the quiet jealousy that stuck with him, no matter what. On top of all that, though, he had the same mix of orange, red, and yellow.

Tsukishima, through it all, stayed the same; royal purple, navy blue, gray, beige, and above all, black.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

When Yamaguchi flubbed his float serve in the middle of the Aoba Johsai vs Karasuno game, all of the green surrounded him like slime. It stuck to him unpleasantly and reminded him of just how far he had to go.

_Why?_ He wondered that night, as he eyed all over the colorful drawings that were pinned to his wall. _Why did I have to be so unlucky?_

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

For the next few months, he worked as hard as he could to perfect this serve. He had to, if he wanted to stand on equal ground with his teammates. He skipped meals, passed his sketching pencils and markers without a thought, and forgot his water bottle, and all throughout his practices, his muscles ached like hell.

In the end, though, when he scored his team points against Seijoh and contributed to their ticket to nationals, all of the pain was worth his while.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

“You can stop practicing for tonight, Yamaguchi,” Tsukishima called over the sound of volleyballs meeting the gym floor. “You’re doing fine. Take a break.”

As much as Yamaguchi wanted to continue, he had to agree. His throat burned, his heart was hammering in his chest, and he was sweating up a storm.

After a few more serves he got dressed back into his school uniform and began to make his way home, Tsukishima by his side, the stars shining brightly overhead.

And when Tsukishima took his (bruised) hand in his own, Yamaguchi accepted it, because he sensed no black, no green that reminded him of all his own failures. Instead, Tsukishima’s hand was warm and he emitted a strong aura of gray that enveloped Yamaguchi like a blanket and made him feel safe.

Yamaguchi’s world is painted like a rainbow; colorful, new, and exciting. He was on equal ground with his peers, and his future was tinged with potential. _All I have to do to improve,_ he thinks to himself as he walks, _is to try_.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! If you did, please leave kudos and/or a comment!  
> I feel like it got a little bit rushed and sloppy at the end, so I'm sorry about that, but I hope it turned out good, regardless.  
> Have a nice rest of your day/night!


End file.
